


Ground Control

by angelboygabriel



Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: Christmas Vibes, Clingy Robbe, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of the multiverses, Post Vrijdag 21:03, Sex & Romantic Existentialism, handjobs, oh god when did so many feelings show up, they get kinda overwhelmed with love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:26:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21912895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelboygabriel/pseuds/angelboygabriel
Summary: Mistletoe is on the ceiling, Sander is in Robbe’s arms, and maybe life isn’t so bad.
Relationships: Sander Driesen/Robbe IJzermans
Comments: 6
Kudos: 297
Collections: Skam Belgium (Wtfock) ▶ Sander Driesen / Robbe Ijzermans





	Ground Control

**Author's Note:**

> They Are So In Love. What Else Is There To Say.

The only lights left are the ones on the tree and wrapped around the doorframe, washing the room in a dim glow that draws long shadows on Robbe and Sander’s skin. They have to nudge dropped beer cans out of the way every so often with their feet as they sway, but the concern of actually cleaning up can wait for tomorrow. 

The present is now, and now is for them.

They don’t speak for fear of spoiling this moment, with quiet winter instrumental music playing over the speakers and Robbe wrapped warmly up in Sander’s arms. Milan and Zöe have already gone to sleep, but Robbe can’t bring himself to reach the end of the night quite yet.

“I love you,” Sander breathes in Robbe’s ear. They stop moving and just stand in the middle of the room, hugging.

Robbe lifts his head from Sander’s shoulder and gently knocks their foreheads together. “I love you too. So fucking much,” he replies.

Above them, a sprig of green leaves with tiny berries dangles from the ceiling, and they both look up with a smile.

“You know what that means,” Sander says with a smirk as he stares at Robbe’s lips. 

Robbe tilts his head to the left and lays a sweet kiss on his lips, and Sander’s happy laugh gusts hot across his mouth.

Robbe presses himself tightly to Sander as Sander’s hands lock hard around him and slide under his shirt to splay across the small of his back. Robbe has to stand on his tiptoes and wrap his arms around Sander’s neck to kiss him at the best angle, and Sander’s mouth falls open at the same time his does. Their movements are slow and deep, and Robbe feels tipsy with the sensation of Sander’s tongue against his.

“So beautiful,” Sander tells him when they break apart for air, lips red and slick. Robbe kisses him again, because he _can_ , and Sander deepens it once more until they’re both hard and all Robbe can taste is Sander.

Robbe lays a hand on Sander’s chest to stop him, and Sander pulls back from him reluctantly. Sander stays still as they lock eyes, Robbe bringing his hands down to Sander’s waist. He grabs the hem of his Bowie shirt and rubs it between his fingers, pushing it up at a glacially slow pace. Sander only steps back when Robbe’s hands near his chin, and then he pulls the shirt over his head before letting his hands drop to his sides. Robbe’s fingers ghost over the button on his jeans next, tracing over Sander’s bulge and watching with heavy eyes as Sander sucks in a sharp breath.

“Let’s go sit on the couch,” Robbe says lowly, and Sander grabs both of his hands as he starts to walk backwards to it. He sits down on it once his knees knock against the edge, and looks up reverently at Robbe. Robbe feels like a king this way, powerful and loved and adored, with two beautiful hands twisted in his.

Robbe leans down so that Sander is relaxed back against the couch cushions, and moves his hands to Sander’s ribs. Sander’s grip switches to Robbe’s forearms, and they kiss slowly as Robbe steps between his legs.

“Come here,” Sander says against his lips, and Robbe straightens up as Sander’s hands go to his pants and start to undo the zip. Robbe’s head falls back as Sander pushes his pants down and rubs slowly across the front of his boxers. His touch disappears, and then Robbe steps out of his pants as Sander adjusts himself so his jeans too are kicked off and he’s laying lengthwise across the couch. Robbe crawls on top of him and straddles his waist, the two of them breathing heavily as Sander helps Robbe’s shirt off. 

“Can I tell you something cheesy?” Robbe asks quietly, and Sander nods, his hands resting lightly on Robbe’s hips. “You can’t laugh,” Robbe adds, and Sander smiles.

“I won’t laugh.”

Robbe looks at him suspiciously, but then his gaze lowers to Sander’s chest, alive and breathing below him, spotted with tiny freckles and faded bruises near his neck and waist from Robbe. He soaks in the way that Sander stares at him, every minuscule movement of his fingers and legs, and Robbe is still in awe that someone so _vivid_ could possibly love him as much as Robbe loves him back. 

“You are the greatest thing the universe could have possibly given me,” he whispers, and Sander’s hands slide up to frame his ribs, something frantic and surprised in his eyes. Sander simply shakes his hand while his hand rests over Robbe’s heart.

“Out there, in the other multiverses, where there’s other me-and-yous, none of them are the same. No other me could love this you like I do, because this is our universe. If I met you from a different universe, I would still love you. But it wouldn’t be _you_. The other versions of us have each other, but in this world we’re ours alone,” Sander replies. 

It makes Robbe feel dizzy to try and process what Sander’s saying, but on a bone level he gets it. This is us, and they are now.

The next kiss is mind-numbing. The past and future suddenly stop existing, and all there is is Sander- Sander under Robbe’s hands and Sander between Robbe’s legs and Sander on Robbe’s lips and Sander in Robbe’s heart.

Perhaps it’s the lack of oxygen from kissing so much, but Robbe feels floaty and half out of it when Sander flips them over so he’s on top and they both hurriedly kick their boxers off. Sander gets a hand between them, sloppy with lube from the little bottle he likes to keep in his pocket, and his mouth by Robbe’s ear. Robbe is moaning so loudly there’s no _way_ Milan and Zöe can’t hear.

Sander looks almost worried at how Robbe is reacting, and he stops jerking them off. “Are you okay?” he pants, and Robbe shakes his head, he’s _not_ , grabs Sander’s face and looks him in the eyes.

“Please,” Robbe gasps, “please, I can’t- I wasn’t-“

Robbe wraps his legs around Sander’s waist at the same time he hooks an arm under his shoulder and onto his back. Robbe pushes his other hand down to where Sander’s had been moments before, stroking the two of them at the same time that he pulls Sander tight against him, and Sander moans into the crook of his shoulder. Robbe knows he understands- he wasn’t all the way himself before they met.

“Robbe,” Sander breathes brokenly into his ear, and Robbe starts to move his hand faster. “ _Robbe_ ,” Sander repeats, and he sounds so desperate that Robbe is coming before he even realizes what’s happening. He starts shaking and then Sander’s hand wraps on top of his to work him through it until he’s spent, and then Sander bites down hard on his shoulder and comes too. 

“Fuck,” Robbe says, his own voice sounding warbled and distant. Sander slumps on top of him with a grunt and Robbe’s legs drop down to spread lazily out, half on the floor.

“Shit, I’m crushing you, baby, let me clean you up,” Sander suddenly says, sitting up. Robbe’s hand darts out to catch his arm, and he knows he must seem so goddamn clingy but he doesn’t care.

“Wait a minute,” Robbe begs, despite hating the feeling of come and lube on his stomach. “Just a second.”

Sander obeys, holding Robbe’s hand until his heart rate slows and he doesn’t feel so frantic. He releases Sander’s hand and his boyfriend quickly grabs paper towels from the kitchen, coming back to clean them up. Robbe is silent as Sander wipes him up them helps him into his boxers, before he stands up and they stare at each other.

“Do you want me to carry you to your room?” Sander asks with a small smirk, and Robbe grins as he feels some of their usual camaraderie fall back into place.

“No way. I’ll carry _you_ ,” he counters, before Sander shrugs and lets Robbe grab him by the backs of his legs and scoop him into his arms. Robbe stays standing for all of three seconds, before he sways dangerously backwards and he stumbles back, tripping to the floor as he drags Sander down on top of him and they laugh loudly.

“Shh!” Robbe hisses between giggles, and Sander yanks him back up before bending over and sweeping Robbe into his arms, bridal-style. “Hey! Asshole! Put me down!” Robbe laughs, hands automatically wrapping around his neck as Sander carries him down the hall and into his room. He nudges the door shut with his foot and sets Robbe down gently on the bed before crawling up next to him. They get under the sheets and Robbe rolls so that he can lay on Sander’s bare chest, hand reaching up to grace his jaw as the other holds onto his bicep.

Almost quieter than Robbe can hear it, Sander speaks under his breath. 

“Don’t let me go, Robbe.”

Robbe tilts his head to look up at Sander.

“Not in this universe, or any other,” he replies.

And Robbe keeps his word. 

He keeps his word through college courses and angry fights and dirty kisses and stolen shirts and shared laughter and shared apartments and new friends and silent days in bed and bad-paying jobs and skin on skin and remembered promises and spilled paint and for better or for worse.

Robbe keeps his word.


End file.
